Steal My Heart Tonight
by Joni Smith
Summary: This is not the story you know. A Prince is cursed to be a hideous monster and his brother is spared his suffering. A girl from a poor town exchanges her freedom for her father's and her sister saves a man she barely knows. How will the strings of fate bind them all together? Rated T for blood in later chapters and sibling abuse.
1. Chapter 1

**Hooray for me! I finally worked up enough courage to post another story on fanfiction! This story idea has actually been bouncing around in my head for three years but I spent a lot of time trying to develop the plot and how my two OC characters would fit into the story. Here's a bit of background:**

**_Three years ago..._**

**I was watching "Beauty and the Beast" with my sister and I noticed that she kept staring at the TV and then back at me. When I asked her what was wrong she only said, "They don't have any siblings."**

**"Who?"**

**"Belle and the Beast don't have any siblings."**

**It was such an innocent statement and since she didn't ask me any more questions, I completely forgot about the whole thing until I was laying in my bed that night on the verge of sleep. My muse decided that it wasn't anywhere close to bedtime yet and thought, _What would have happened if Belle and the Beast had siblings?_ And so, in my head hatched a plot bunny for two new characters to tell their untold story. **

**OMG! I honestly can't even describe how excited I am about sharing this with you guys! But as excited as I am, I do have a life outside of the internet (who would have guessed?) so there might be long lengths of time between updates. Because I also rely heavily on constructive criticism chapters may be edited multiple times before I'm satisfied. It will be a long, frustrating process but I hope you will bear with me through this journey. **

**xoxo from Joni**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or "Beauty and the Beast". I only own my OCs.**

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><p>Prologue<p>

_Once upon a time, in a faraway land, two princes lived in a shining castle. Though both had all their hearts desired the eldest was spoiled, selfish, and unkind while his younger brother was an upright, noble, and kind man. On Christmas Eve many years ago, an old beggar woman came to the castle's door and begged the elder of the two brothers for shelter in exchange for a single red rose. But the elder brother was disgusted by her ugliness and demanded that she leave the castle's grounds. "Do not be deceived by appearances," the woman warned wisely. "The truest beauty of all is found not in the outward appearance, but in the heart."_

_The Prince sneered. "Leave my home. You are not welcome here, unless you fancy being charged for trespassing on royalty."_

_ His cruel words were no sooner out of his mouth when the hag began to glow. Her ugly guise melted away so she was revealed in her true form: a beautiful Enchantress. An awesome wrath poured from her eyes and the Prince fell to his knees before her, shaking and begging her to forgive his cruelty. But his pleas fell on deaf ears, for the Enchantress could see that he held no love in his heart for any, other than himself. "You have been deceived by your own cold heart. A curse shall be upon every member of your house. You shall bear an appearance that reflects what you are on the inside: a Beast. You will have no one but your servants for companionship, doomed to remain alone and unloved until you find one to love and who loves you in return, despite what you appear to be."_

_ The Prince remained on his knees as the transformation took place. His limbs lengthened and swelled and sprouted dark brown fur as he screamed in the agony of his bones breaking and being reformed into that of an animal. When the light finally faded from his form, the Beast collapsed onto all four legs, snarling in anger and whimpering in pain. "What have you done to me?!" _

_ The Enchantress' eyes held no pity or sympathy, only cold truth. "I have done nothing to you, Beast. You have done this to yourself. If your heart had not been so cold and without love, perhaps I could have rewarded you for your kindness. As it is, I will leave you with three gifts, in the hope that they will aid you in breaking your curse._

_ In her hands, the Enchantress held and ornate mirror and the rose that she had offered the Prince in exchange for a place to stay. These she gave to him explaining, "The mirror is enchanted to show you anything that you wish to see; your gateway to the outside world. The rose will be your timer. It will bloom until your twenty-fourth year, and then die. If you have not broken the spell by then, you will be doomed to remain an accursed monster for all time."_

_The Enchantress turned to leave but the Beast called out, his voice turned into a rough growl, "What about my final gift?"_

_She turned around. "You will know it when the time comes." And then she was gone._

_ Soon after, the Prince's brother returned home, spared from the Enchantress's curse because of a kindness he had given her. Enraged, the Beast locked his brother in the dungeon tower and left him there to rot._

_Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle with only the mirror and the rose, as it slowly counted down. He soon fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?_

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><p><em>Who indeed<em>, the prisoner thought grimly. For years, he had labored away, slowly, painstakingly etching the words into the cold stone until they could never be washed away. That was all well and good for the prisoner felt that his time was nearly up. Every day he felt his body grow weaker despite the best efforts of his servants to sustain him. Darkness was coming but he felt no fear. He was ready.

Suddenly, he heard the distinctive sounds of metal upon hard stone. The prisoner smiled it would be good to see a friendly face before death took him. Weakly, he pulled himself up to the bars of his cell and found Lumiere, the enchanted candlestick, staring at him anxiously through the bars. "I tried to find you some food," he reported forlornly, "but the Master was pacing everywhere today and I could not—"

"Peace, my old friend," the prisoner interrupted. "You have done more for me than most would have considering his orders. I'm very glad you are here; there is something I must tell you."

The prisoner had debated tell his friend this but he knew it had to be done; a last gesture of love for his friends, and perhaps a beacon of hope for them as well. "Someone will be coming soon. By what way or time I do not know, I only know that someone is coming and that there will be great joy for all."

"Is it the one who will break the spell?"

"Perhaps. But tell the Master that it will be his only chance, you must make sure he understands that."

"And if he finds out it was you who said this?"

The prisoner smiled wryly. "It hardly matters anymore. He can take my advice or forget it. I don't suppose I'll live long enough to find out."

Lumiere looked taken aback. Then he squared his shoulders (or what could be presumed to be his shoulders) and proclaimed, "I will not let you die, sir. I swear on my life that I will keep you alive."

"Of course you will, my friend. Unfortunately, I must ask one last favor of you and you must make sure every servant in this house hears it."

"Sir?"

"If I should live long enough to see your savior come to the castle—"

"And you will live," Lumiere promised.

"If I live to see that day, then you must swear the household to secrecy about my true identity. If she knows it will raise too many questions that cannot be answered. Promise me this."

"I promise you, sir."

"Good. Now go, I do not want you in trouble at my expense."

Though Lumiere did not fear his Master as much as many of the other servants did, he did not like to be on the receiving end of his temper. With one last forlorn look at the prisoner, he hopped out of the tower.

As his friend left and the darkness returned, the prisoner realized how tired he had become. It would do him good to sleep. Not for forever, the time for that was not quite here yet, but he sensed that it would be soon. For the first time in ten years the prisoner lay down and slept peacefully.

_It will not be long now…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first chapter in our great odyssey that is this story! Together we shall brave even the strongest of storms and the most difficult challenges known to mankind (i.e. writer's block) until we reach our goal!**

**Okay, enough with the dramatics. A big thanks to my first reviewers, followers, and favoriters!**

**Favorites: SailorSedna052 and Tamikesunpie. You brightened my day darlings!**

**Followers: SailorSedna052 and Tamikesumpie. And now, you've brightened my day even more!**

**Reviewers: Guest **

**XOXOXO from Joni**

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Beauty and the Beast", any works by Alexandre Dumas, or any works by Charles Perrault. **

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><p>Another Boring Day<p>

The morning in the village dawned much as it had the morning before; and the morning before that; and the morning before that. Nothing about that morning was extraordinary, the sun still broke over the distant horizon and painted the sky with beautiful shades of red, purple, and gold. It was on this un-extarordinary morning that two extraordinary girls went into town, much like they did everyday.

Belle and Layla at first appeared to be an unlikely pair. Layla's fiery auburn hair and sparkling green eyes contrasted with Belle's dark brown and pretty hazel; but nevertheless the girls were sisters. Belle's mother had adopted a nine year-old Layla just before she had died and the girls had found such comfort in one another after her death that they had become inseparable. Layla had told Belle about how her mother had found her: a poor orphan girl, sick and alone, on the outskirts of the village. Layla hadn't asked the woman to take her in, but Belle's mother had simply scooped her up like a babe and brought her home. "This is your new sister," she had said when her daughter turned curious eyes to the little girl in her mother's arms. "Her name is Layla."

Belle had taught Layla how to read and write, and both girls discovered another similarity in their love of books and knowledge. Their father had often caught them hiding under their blankets, late at night when they were supposed to be asleep, reading one story or another and giggling about the handsome prince rescuing the princess. They were not sisters by blood but they were kindred spirits to each other and it was something they felt they often needed, considering how bored they were living in this tiny village.

"So, what are we doing today?" Layla asked as she walked arm-in-arm with her sister down to the ever unchanging streets.

Belle chuckled at her sister's familiar joke. "The real question is: what is everyone else doing today?"

The girls looked at each other and said, "The same thing they did yesterday!" Before laughing loudly into the cold morning air.

"Fortunately, for us," Belle remarked when they had finally calmed down, "we can borrow a new adventure today."

"Which one should we pick?"

"Perhaps an old favorite?"

"Which old favorite?"

This sent them into a new round of giggles, which caught the attention of the baker, passing along, and selling his bread. "Good morning, girls," he called cheerily. "What has you so amused this morning?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," answered Layla. "We were just talking about what new stories we might discover today at the bookshop and we―"

"Ah, yes, yes, that's nice," the baker interrupted, having lost all interest in the conversation when Layla brought up that they were looking for books. "Marie, we're out of baguettes! Hurry up!"

The baker's wife hurried past them and handed a steaming tray of bread to her husband, who seemed to have forgotten he'd been talking to the girls at all. Belle rolled her eyes and pulled Layla along down the road while whispers followed them all the way.

"A bit odd those two, aren't they?"

"Reading! Hmph, not a pastime any _proper_ lady would enjoy."

"It's too bad the mother died when they were so young and the father didn't have enough sense to marry again. It would have done the girls some good."

"Such beauty gone to waste!"

The girls heard all of it but took none of it to heart. They had made peace with the fact that they were different from everyone else in the village, who prefered the safe feelings of conformity and normalcy. They wanted adventure, to see the world, to make their own story, one where they got to be the heroes. Being in the village was like being in a fishbowl, no where to go except where you'd been before. Books gave them an escape from all the awful familiarity of village life. In books, Belle and Layla could be whoever they wished; whether it be mysterious Arabian princesses or cut-throat vagabonds. They could go to the deepest depths of the sea or to the highest tree in the jungle. Books were the escape route the girls used to get out of their normal, constant lives and go on adventures.

It seemed the only man in the village who shared Belle and Layla's opinions on books was the bookseller. He was an elderly man who had been good friends with their mother and let her borrow books whenever she felt like it. After she passed away, he'd generously allowed her daughters to continue borrowing books. Layla didn't know how she would have stayed sane without his constant supply of literature. New books didn't come in every week but he did manage to keep a sizeable collection around so the girls never got bored. Recently, Layla had discovered she loved the writings of Alexandre Dumas, especially _The Three Musketeers_. Belle would often go back to old favorites, so much so that the bookseller had once joked that the pages of _Romeo and Juliet _were permanently stained with her tears.

When they finally reached the little shop, nestled on the corner, Layla felt her smile grow in anticipation. This was the place where she could be herself, a place that told her it was alright for her to be different from everybody else. The little bell on the door rang merrily as the duo entered.

"Belle, Layla!" The bookseller emerged from behind the counter and adjusted his spectacles with a bright twinkle in his eye.

"Good morning! We're returning the books we borrowed." Belle handed him her copy before climbing the ladder and scrutinizing every row.

"It can't have been more than two weeks since I last saw you both!"

"I think that's a new record," teased Layla, handing her book back to the man as well.

The bookseller laughed. "I do declare, I have never met two young ladies so intrigued by the world of literature. But it is not by any means an unwelcome change."

Layla smiled at him before joining her sister by the shelves, her eyes scouting every row in her search for _The Man in the Iron Mask_. "Do you have anything new?" Belle asked from her perch on the ladder.

"Not since yesterday."

Belle waved a hand while her eyes continued to sweep every book, searching for the perfect fit. "That's alright. I'll borrow… This one!" Triumphantly, Belle held in her hand a book that both girls adored. It was a fairytale about a young maiden who meets a prince while in the forest one day. However, she doesn't figure out that her young man is the prince until much later in the story. Layla should have expected Belle to choose it, she did love old favorites.

The bookseller looked closely at the cover's lettering before exclaiming, "That one? But you've read it twice!"

"Five times." Layla corrected.

"Well, it's my favorite!" Belle looked dreamily into the distance, like she could see the scene unfolding on the street outside the shop. "Far off places, daring sword fights―"

"Magic spells and princes in disguise," Layla interjected with a fond smile. "You've only read it a hundred times."

"So have you." Belle nudged her sister's shoulder fondly.

The bookseller shook his head and laughed as the sisters bickered good-naturedly. "Well, Belle, if you like it all that much it's yours."

Belle's lovely hazel eyes grew as big as saucers. The girls had never been given such a fine gift. "But sir―" Belle tried to push the book back into his hands.

"I insist! And Layla," he added, rummaging through a lower shelf. "I know you enjoyed those stories by Charles Perrault."

Astonished, Layla took the red, leather bound book from his hands. The cover was embossed with a golden design of leaves and flowers around the title's lettering. It was a beautiful addition. "Where did this come from?" Layla wondered. How could anyone leave such a beautiful book behind?

"Oh, that one's been on the shelf for years. The woman who brought it to me said the owner never returned for it."

"How tragic," murmured Layla, her thin fingers tracing the golden designs. She looked up at her friend, happy tears starting to sparkle in her eyes. "This is so generous of you. Thank you so much."

The bookseller adjusted his spectacles and smiled at the girls. "It's the least I can do for my two best customers."

"Well, thank you. Thank you very much!" Belle waved to him as he ushered the two out the door and back into the sunshine.

It didn't take long before they were both being swept away in their own imaginations. While Belle read of the prince in disguise and his sweetheart, Layla's book told the tale of poor, but good-hearted, Cinderella. At the fountain in the center of town, they stopped and sat on the edge, letting the cool water leave a slight misty spray on their skin. Layla loved the feeling of the sun on her face and, if it weren't for the bustling all around her, she could picture herself by a stream in front of a grand castle.

Belle snapped her out of her thoughts by remarking that they did need to get home and help their father. With a small sigh, Layla let her thoughts of castles and streams fade from her mind and focused on the task ahead: reading her book without abandon and making her way unscathed through the crowded streets of the market. She and Belle had mastered the skill years ago and it was a wonderful way to pass the time; a trip that would normally feel very long felt as though it had taken no time at all when she had a book in hand. They were almost to the path that would lead them home when Layla looked up and saw the last person on earth that she wanted to see.

"Hello, Belle," he said, completely ignoring Layla's presence.

"Bonjour, Gaston," her sister replied, politely yet curtly.

Gaston was the town hero. Tall, strapping, and devilishly handsome, he was a very good hunter and an arrogant braggart to boot. Every girl in town admired him, swooning at his feet as he walked by, all fervently hoping to one day become his bride. Unfortunately, he only had eyes for one woman: Belle. Layla felt an ugly creature rise up in her every time the hunter came anywhere near Belle. At first she had thought it was jealousy but she quickly realized that it was only intense distrust. She didn't like the way Gaston looked at her sister, like he was a great, fat cat and Belle was the little mouse he was so intent on catching. He also didn't appreciate a good book apparently, considering he had just snatched Belle's book right out of her hands.

"Gaston, may I have my book please?" Belle reached for it but Gaston kept it away from her grasp.

"How can you read this?" HIs tone was incredulous as he let the book's pages fall from one cover to the other. "There are no pictures."

Belle and Layla both lifted their eyebrows and wore identical smirks on their faces. How was it possible that one man could have such a thick head? Or a more overdeveloped ego? "Well, some people use their imagination."

Gaston ignored her jab at his intelligence and instead turned back to her with a scolding tone. "Belle, it's about time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things." He tossed the book into a puddle of mud and then stopped Belle, who had knelt down to retrieve it. "Like me." he smiled prettily at Belle but Layla could still only think of that cat hunting that poor little mouse. Not that Belle couldn't take care of herself; she had stood up to Gaston before, tried to put off his advances, but the man just didn't understand the meaning of the word "no".

"The whole town's talking about it," continued Gaston as Belle reached around his legs and picked the book out of the puddle. From where Layla was standing it didn't appear to be damaged. "It's not right for a woman to read. Soon she starts getting ideas and… thinking." He said the last word as though it was a plague to women everywhere but Layla was convinced he'd never used his brain more than twice in his life.

"Gaston," Belle remarked as she pulled herself up from the ground and wiping her book delicately on her apron, "you are positively primeval."

Layla expected to see the look of arrogance wiped from Gaston's face but he merely grinned even wider and sauntered over to Belle again. "Why thank you, Belle!" Seriously, how could be this idiotic? It was almost embarrassing. "Say, why don't we go to the tavern and take a look at my trophies?"

Belle shot Layla a desperate look while trying to disentangle herself from Gaston's arm over her shoulder. Layla quickly reached under Gaston's arm and pulled her sister from his grasp. "Actually, I really need to get Belle home." Layla gave him a too-big smile while he gave her a look that could have burned holes into solid rock. "Papa probably needs our help. Goodbye now."

Gaston's lackey, a tiny, little, piggy-looking man named LeFou, let out an obnoxious guffaw. "That crazy old loon?! He needs all the help he can get!" Both men began to erupt in laughter.

"Don't talk about our father that way!" Belle cried angrily.

"Yeah, don't talk about her father that way!" Gaston clocked LeFou over the head, forever trying to get on Belle's good side.

"Our father's not crazy. He's a genius!" It was at that moment that the cellar of the little cottage decided to explode.

Gaston and LeFou's laughter followed the girls as they ran up the path to their house. This sort of thing had happened before but it never failed to worry them. Maurice was getting on in years but it had never stopped him from making inventions more eccentric than the last. The girls always supported his work and encouraged him to do what he loved, even if they were slightly concerned about the occasional explosions. Like now, for instance.

Smoke poured through the crack in the cellar doors and they were quickly thrown open to allow Layla and Belle to find their way down the stairs coughing and calling, "Papa? Are you alright?"

As the smoke cleared through the open doors, Maurice stood scratching his head, covered in soot and dust, in front of his latest invention. "Now why on earth would that have happened?"

Layla sighed in relief as her eyes settled on her father, who was miraculously unharmed. Adopted she may have been, but Maurice had told her long ago that she was as much his daughter as Belle was. She had thrown her arms around his neck then and cried happy tears, feeling so loved and wanted as she never had before. Belle rushed to Maurice's side and looked him over. "Are you sure you're alright Papa?"

Maurice waved her off and turned newly frustrated eyes onto the contraption. "Yes, yes. But I'm about ready to give up on this hunk of junk." He gave it a kick but the machine only shuddered.

"You always say that." Belle reminded him.

"Well I mean it this time," Maurice sputtered. "I'll never get this bone-headed contraption to work!"

"Yes you will, and you'll win first prize at the fair tomorrow."

Maurice harumphed and crossed his arms over his pudgy chest, giving his girls skeptical looks. Belle subtly gestured for Layla to help her out and the red-head came over to her father's side. "And you'll become a world famous inventor." Whenever Maurice was down about his inventions not working the way he wanted, it helped to mention that a day would come when he would be known throughout Europe and the rest of the world. When his girls would say that it never failed to put a twinkle back into his eyes.

"You really believe that, my girl?"

Layla gave his shoulder a squeeze and kissed his cheek. "I always have, I always will. Belle and I believe in you, Papa."

The inventor smiled before returning his attention to the contraption. "Well, if I'm going to win tomorrow then I suppose I better get to work hadn't I? Will one of you hand me that dog-legged clencher there?"

Belle retrieved said tool from one of the many shelves around the workshop while Layla sat on a stool near the machine and read her book by the light of the late afternoon sun. "Did you girls have a good time in town today?"

"We both got new books." Layla traced her fingers over the red leather again and had to remind herself that the book was all hers, it just felt too good to be true.

"Papa? Do you think we're odd?"

Layla's head snapped up at Belle's soft-spoken question. Belle never asked things like that; she was always so comfortable with who she was, even if it made her stand out among the crowd. maurice seemed to be thinking along the same lines and answered, "My girls? Odd? Now where did you get an idea like that?"

Belle chuckled as she handed her father another tool. "I don't know. It's just that I'm not Layla and I fit in here. There's no one that we really talk to in town besides each other and the bookseller." That wa true. As far as Layla could recollect she had never talked to anyone extensively besides the bookseller.

"What about that Gaston? He's a handsome fellow." Maurice was still under the machine but Layla could almost see his smirk.

"Sure, Papa, he's handsome alright," replied Layla. "And rude and conceited and―Papa there's no way he's the one for her."

Maurice emerged from under the invention, sporting a few new grease spots on his nose and arms, and looked at the two young women sympathetically. "Well, don't you two worry, 'cause this invention's gonna be the start of a new life for us." The inventor rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I think that's done it. Now let's give it a try."

Once the lever was pulled the machine roared to life. It bumped and clanked as the conglomeration of objects that made it up ground together in a strange sort of mechanical dance. Layla watched with bated breath as the ax on the end of the machine began to hack at the small log sitting on a short table. After two thwacks the log had been cut cleanly in half and was flung across the room to land on a large pile of other cut logs. A smile broke across Layla's face as the machine continued to cut and cast away log after log. "It works! You did it! You really did it!" Belle exclaimed.

Maurice looked happily stunned for a moment before realizing that the machine was going to work. "It does! Girls,hitch up Philippe. I'm off to the fair!"

They didn't have to be told twice. It took less than an hour for Maurice and the girls to haul the invention into a cart, hitch the cart to the horse, pack what was needed, and send Maurice on his way. "When I come home with first prize," said Maurice as he mounted Philippe, "we'll go to all those wonderful places you girls have read about in your books. It'll be a new adventure for our little family."

"Just be sure you're careful on the roads at night." Layla cautioned. "It wouldn't do for you to present your first place quality invention to the judges with a cold."

Maurice laughed and dug his heels into Philippe's side. As horse, rider, and invention moved down the path and Maurice waved farewell to his daughters Layla couldn't help but feel a new chapter beginning in her life. In a few days they would be out of this tiny provincial village and going to see the great cities of the world: Paris, Barcelona, Rome, Athens, oh what an adventure it would be!

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><p>"What do you want Prince Charming to be?"<p>

In the darkness of night Layla sat up and stared at where her sister slept. "Why do you ask?"

Though Layla could not see her sister clearly, the moon did offer her a bit of light with which to see Belle's silhouette. "When Papa suggested that I get to know Gaston you said there was no way he was the right one for me."

"Because he isn't."

Belle laughed. "Well, I know _that _obviously. But it got me thinking: what would you say you would want Prince Charming to be?"

For a moment, Layla sat back against her pillows and was silent with thought. When she spoke it was slow and calculated. "He must be kind, caring, and honest; handsome but not arrogant; brave but not foolhardy; smart but not demeaning."

"What faults would you permit him to have?"

The silence before she answered that question was even longer. "I suppose I would permit him whatever faults I might have. I know I'm stubborn and I will argue until I'm blue in the face even if I'm wrong. I know I have a bit of a temper so I would not blame him wholly if we fought, unless he was just blatantly wrong. Don't you think that by saying all this I'm not giving myself realistic expectations for a husband?"

"He's called Prince Charming for a reason you know. Think of this as a very rough guideline. Maybe your future husband won't have all of those qualities but he will have most of them, hopefully more of the good ones than the bad ones."

"Well, what about you? What's your rough guideline for the perfect man?"

There was almost no hesitation in Belle's answer. "As long as he's not Gaston, I think I'll be alright."

They laughed for a good long while then. "Maybe you should marry Quasimodo then." Layla joked. "He truly is everything Gaston is not!"

"While I do admire Quasimodo's devotion and sacrifice, I do think I would like my husband to be a bit handsomer than the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Does that make me sound vain?"

"Perhaps a little. But I think that the idea of marriage is one where girls are allowed to be a bit vain. Everyone dreams of marrying the handsome prince."

Layla yawned and said her goodnights to Belle with a smile on her face, hoping to dream of her Prince coming to rescue her from this life of boredom and constancy. But in her sleep she saw not a handsome man on a white horse, but a cage. A dark, black, smoky cage that had a man trapped inside. Layla reached for him but he shook his head sadly and gestured to the bars entrapping him. His eyes, the most astonishing icy blue, held hers as he took her hand and spoke urgently, "Find me, help me, I beg of you."

When Layla awoke the next morning she felt as though she had forgotten something important and no matter how hard she thought on it she could not work out what it was.


End file.
